


One love One life-time

by thelittlestpurplecat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Christine!Steve, M/M, Phantom of the Opera AU, Phantom!Bucky, Stucky!phantom of the opera AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestpurplecat/pseuds/thelittlestpurplecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short Stucky!Phantom of the Opera AU blurb that i wrote up for a friend. This isn't really complete, it just is what it is, I hope you enjoy it anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One love One life-time

Everyone knows the story. The ghost who falls in love with the one with the golden voice. Everyone knows how it ends. The ghost is left alone…abandoned…insane…The one with the golden voice marries another…they live a long and happy life together….

But what if it was different?

What if it didn’t end that way at all?

.-.-.-.-.-

The dark haired man’s finger’s trailed lightly over his porcelain skin, cold, like ice, and tinged an odd shade in the uncertain candle light. The singer’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tight with a mixture of emotions. He was frightened, no doubt, of the apparition who had spirited him away to this dark and watery chamber, but more than that, he was…captivated. 

As the dark figure’s hand brushed softly over his cheeks bones, Steve heard so clearly the angelic voice that had taught him every secret he knew. It was soft, and clear, echoing beautifully through the stony cavern. 

"Say you’ll share with me one love…one life-time…say the word and I will follow you…" It was so much more than just words. The phantom’s dark eyes stared out at him from above the mask that concealed the lower half of his face, earnest, honest, almost…desperate…Meaning hung on every word. His desire was so complete that it showed through his every action.

A shiver passed through Steve as he gaze locked with the phantoms. There was hunger there, but also a deep, desperate kind of longing; the kind of longing that was only bred through decades of hurt and loneliness.  How could he walk away? How could he leave and let that pain continue inside of the man who had taught him so much…His phantom…His angel…

He reached up slowly, the sleeve of his suit jacket pulling back sightly to reveal his slender, delicate wrist. The phantom’s eye’s widened, fear creeping into them. His voice died in his throat. In the sudden, heavy silence that settled over the cavern, Steve touched the other man’s face. The phantom flinched away, an involuntary sound of distress escaping him. Then Steve’s finger’s came to rest, feather-light, above the line of his mask. 

Steve’s mouth was dry, his felt shaky, and uncertain. But the phantom didn’t love through touch, he loved through words,and music. Steve parted his slightly chapped lips, not even sure if he would be able to produce the sound he needed, but he would hate himself if he didn’t try. “Share each day with me, each night, each morning…”

The phantom’s eyes lit with a sudden passion, and he stepped forward aggressively, closing the distance between them and gripping his finger’s through Steve’s hair. It was an act of dominance, but at the same time, it was an act of fear. It was an attempt to regain the control that Steve was so gently stripping him of. Steve swallowed hard, seeing the other man’s eyes drop to his throat as he did. He should be frightened, he knew, but all he felt was a simple, unimpeded sense of peace. What ever would happen now would happen. 

The ghost…the phantom…his mentor, held his gaze fiercely for several long moments, before his grip loosened and he stroked his fingers lovingly through Steve’s soft blond hair. “Say you love me…” He whisper, his voice barely conveying the melody through the rough material of his mask. 

"You know I do…" Steve responded quietly. His hand slid up the side of his face, fingers slipping gently under his mask. The dark haired man pulled away for a moment, eyes growing wild with fear, before he froze, his deep eyes closing in a show of resignation. Steve pulled the mask slowly aside and let it fall from his fingers.

His mentor stared at him now, frightened, pleading. His hair hung limply before his eyes, his scared lips parted. The lower half of his face had been badly scared, slashed and torn, leaving ridges and patches of scar tissue along his cheeks and jawline. But still, despite that, his lips were soft, and full, his face, beautiful in it’s shape and contours.

As Steve stared, mesmerized, a single tear traced its way down the phantom’s cheek, sliding through and over the patches of scaring. When the phantom spoke again, his voice was a feeble whisper, cracked, and broken, and so, so fearful. “…Love me…” He choked, as Steve stepped forward. his hands were so soft, on gentle on his scared face, that the phantom, that Bucky, was no longer afraid. “…that’s all I ask of you…”

With his heart pounding in his ears, Steve leaned forward, and kissed him. His warm lips met his mentor’s cold ones, and the phantom leaned forward, suddenly desperate for the affection that had been withheld from him for so long. He pressed in, drawing Steve against him, but it was no longer in the dominant, threatening way that had been designed to help him maintain control. No, this time, his motive was purely this: That he could not bear to be separate from Steve for a moment longer.

He wanted Steve with him, from this moment one. He wanted to hold him, to kiss and touch him. He wanted to share with him secrets that he had kept from everyone. Secrets of music, secrets of the world, and of himself. He wanted Steve to know his name. He wanted Steve to love him, and to be happy. He wanted a new life with Steve, one that they would share. And if there was one thing that Bucky wanted most of all, it was that he should be able to hold him in his arms, and have him all to himself. His Angel. His Steve. 


End file.
